I very much doubt that the opinion of an 'anonymous' shadow on this site is going to be taken seriously against my critical gravitas. I am 52, not 60, though look forward to being 60 or 90. I am not a lunatic, I am a psychopath and a sociopath. Very controlled, not affected by the moon's phases. I ding my dong every day and night in whatever orifices present to me. I doubt you have sex with anything other than your clenched fist as you one-handedly type away wishing you were an elegant uber-sophisticated cultural pathfinder like me. But you're not, you're just a silly anonymous troll from the basement. Go back down there, close the hatch and don't come back up to the grown-ups room again.
Oh you unlettered lunatic, but you are anonymous! Brummie Boy, WTF, I know who you are and you are fat bold ugly 60 years old impotent pauper. Listen, The Knife is shit, New Bowie is gigantic crap. New Suede is so so, and new British Sea Power is very very good. But, ROTT and YOR - pure gold. Fantastic records in every view. Morrissey is the best and he is icon. OK? Get it? Understand. But you, you sad pauper, find a life. Live. You have only 10 years in front of you. Live! Live the wonderful life that is in you! Let nothing be lost upon you. The world belongs to you for a season... Don't squander the gold of your days on some site. And, put this "Swords" LP on, enjoy in beauty of "Christian Dior" lyrics:
You wasted your life
On aroma and clothes
Fabric and dyes
Christian Dior
You wasted your life
On grandeur and style
Making the poor rich smile
You could have run wild
On the backstreets of Lyon or Marseille
Reckless and legless and stoned
Impregnating women
Or kissing mad street boys from Napoli
Who couldn't even write their own name
Christian Dior
You wasted your life
Sensually stroking the weaves of a sleeve.
You could have run wild
On the backstreets of Lyon or Marseille
Reckless and legless and stoned
Impregnating women
Or kissing mad street boys from Napoli
Who couldn't even spell their own name
Oh, Christian Dior
Oh, Christian Dior
When you look at me
Failure is all that you see
I discipline my days just like Christian Dior
I could've run loudly and proudly
Or forcible entry
Morally bankrupt
And never non-violent
And drawn to what scares me
And scared of what bores me
Years alone will never be returned.
Christian Dior
Lyonise maverick, ah
Design if you can, ah
The way to just be a man, ah
To just be a man, ah